


get a little closer, let fold

by cheinsaw



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: 5+1 Things, Established Relationship, F/F, Love Confessions, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheinsaw/pseuds/cheinsaw
Summary: Cut open my sternum and pull my little ribs around you.Five times Jeanne Alter can't say "I love you", and one time she can.
Relationships: Jeanne d'Arc | Ruler/Jeanne d'Arc Alter | Avenger
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	get a little closer, let fold

**Author's Note:**

> REAL TSUNDERE HOURS WHO UP CLICK LIKE... B-BUT IT'S NOT LIKE I "LIKE" YOU OR ANYTHING!!!!!
> 
> come bother me on twitter... i like jalter... @tenhimi

i.

There will be no first time, Jeanne Alter thinks, there will be no occasion where the words _I love you_ leave her lips. Jeanne Alter is a being of flesh and blood and malice and hatred; Jeanne Alter cannot love or adore the way her other self can.

"You don't have to say it back," Jeanne tells her, ever patient, the sweetest girl. "I just want you to know, okay? I love you, Alter."

"Yeah," the Alter says, and hates herself.

ii.

This is new to the Alter—not feeling any pain. Jeanne's hands touch her with no malice or violence. Fingertips skim lightly over scars and burns, kisses are pressed here and there with no expectation of something owed in return. Jeanne gives, full stop. Jeanne is a saint; Jeanne is her Alter's, and the Alter is Jeanne's.

(The Alter has never belonged to someone like this before. Gilles, maybe, in name only—but never like this.)

Jeanne holds her Alter like she does every night, her face in the crook of the Alter's neck, their legs entwined. "Alter?" she asks quietly.

"Yeah?"

She's silent for a long moment. "Thank you," she says.

"For what?"

"For being with me."

The Alter scoffs. "Why would you thank me for that?"

"Oh, it's not—I mean, I know it's hard for you, being an Avenger… I just want you to know I really do love you."

_I love you too_ , the Alter wants to say so badly. The words simply won't come out; she's tried. Each time she chokes up and sputters until she's frustrated, hating herself, hating the curse that binds her. But never Jeanne. She has hated Jeanne enough for several lifetimes. She will not hate Jeanne again.

"Yeah," the Alter manages. "I, you know… me too." That's as close as she will get for now.

Jeanne hums pleasantly in the darkness. "I see," she says. "That's good! I'm so happy for you, Alter."

Were anyone else to speak to her this way, the Alter would rip their head from their shoulders in an instant. When Jeanne says it, a soft warmth fills the hole in her burned-out chest.

iii.

She would expect to hate this. The Alter lies on her side, at Jeanne's request, her head in Jeanne's lap. Jeanne's long fingers card through her hair, smoothing it, twirling it. "Whatever," the Alter had said when Jeanne asked. It's not as if this could _hurt_ her. (It will make Jeanne happy.)

"I like being with you so much, Alter," she's murmuring. "Even if it's just like this. My beautiful girl. I'm so lucky, hehe."

"Yeah," the Alter says, her face glowing hot.

"I'm serious!" She's begun lightly massaging the Alter's scalp now, comforting and pleasant. The Alter could almost fall asleep here, would she not die of embarrassment. "Mon cœur," Jeanne sighs.

"Hey, when did I give you permission to call me all kinds of sappy shit like that?"

Jeanne's hand stops. "Do you not like it?"

Something within the Alter sinks. "Well, no, I mean—it's not like that… I guess you can… keep doing it…"

"I see," Jeanne says, and curls a lock of hair around her fingers. She pauses. "Alter?"

"Yeah?"

"It might be selfish of me to ask, but… Do you—like me?"

It is a loaded question, the Alter knows. One that makes her blood run cold. _Yes_ , she wishes she could say. _I love you, Jeanne, I love you, you're the only one,_ all the miserably saccharine things that Jeanne can tell her effortlessly.

The Alter's throat closes up. "Yeah," she finally manages, and saying it feels like burning at the stake all over again.

Jeanne hums, resumes stroking her Alter's hair. "I see," she says, her voice filled with warmth. "I'm glad."

iv.

Avengers, beings of hatred that they are, can still cry. The Alter hates this the most. There is nothing more accursed than her own human form, human emotions, human processes. Tears roll hot down her face, choking her. Jeanne's arms keep her steady, gently squeezing her body.

"I know," Jeanne's saying, "I know, Alter, it's alright. It's alright."

"It's not alright!" The Alter's body jerks, thrashes. Jeanne holds her still. "You shouldn't— _fucking_ waste your time on me, you—"

"I am not wasting anything," Jeanne says. One hand smooths the Alter's hair, rhythmic and calm. "I chose to be with you. Okay?"

"I'm going to hurt you," the Alter sobs.

"You're not. Not on purpose."

"You're just, f-fine with that?"

"I'll never hold what you are against you, Alter. I know you don't mean to." Jeanne's voice remains soft, unwavering. "I'm staying here. I won't leave you."

"You should just—find someone better. Get your heart broken by some other girl. Probably be less painful," the Alter says. The laugh that she forces out is more of a pained cough than anything.

"Hmm… No, I don't want to!" Jeanne says brightly. "I'm not interested in any other girls. I only want you."

"Stupid," the Alter mutters.

"I know," Jeanne says. "There, there. Deep breaths, Alter, you'll be okay. There you go, shhh, I know, shhh…"

The Alter stays quiet for a long moment, focusing only on Jeanne's voice and her own breathing. "Hey," she says, after what must be an eternity. "I… you know… You too."

"Hmm?"

"About…" The Alter struggles, trying to get the words out. "Not wanting anyone else."

"Ah!" Jeanne says. "Oh, I'm so glad, Alter. That's good! You're doing so well."

The Alter sniffles, and presses herself closer to Jeanne. This much, she can do.

v.

They could be in Orleans, or Domrémy, or anywhere. Perhaps it is a dream: blue sky, golden bales of hay. The lush green grasses of the French countryside. Somewhere close, Jeanne is singing.

The Alter finds herself atop a pile of fresh hay. This kind of thing is Jeanne's favorite, she knows, but the Alter is less partial to it. No matter—she looks up at Jeanne with a tenderness she didn't know she had. It is easier, here, with no one else around.

"Alter!" Jeanne says.

"Yeah, that's me."

"I'm happy to see you here. Could I lie down with you?"

"Like I can stop you."

Jeanne makes a pleased noise and lays her body next to the Alter's. Without thinking, the Alter rolls over towards her, hooking one arm over Jeanne's waist.

"Isn't it nice?" Jeanne smiles warmly.

It's not, really; the hay uncomfortably scratches at the Alter's back and arms. But it smells of sweet grass and home, and Jeanne looks so happy. "Yeah," the Alter says. "It's fine."

Jeanne settles herself against the Alter's chest, nuzzling her face into the Alter's throat. (The Alter has always found it remarkable how Jeanne trusts her like this.) Something bright and warm wells up in the Alter's chest, and for once, she does not push it away.

"Hey. …Jeanne."

"What is it?"

"I really, you know… Don't make me say it."

Jeanne chuckles. "I won't. I love you too, Alter."

vi.

Jeanne is gone. Only for a day or two, but her bed is empty and the room is too quiet. Enough so that the Alter can only hear her own breathing, her own heart. This is how things were, before Jeanne was summoned. Good riddance, the Alter thinks, and goes back to sleep.

Jeanne is gone and the Alter finds herself missing her, an uncomfortable lump in her throat. She half-expects to hear a holy pretty voice behind her, saying _Alter, Alter_ in that annoying way the Alter's come to half-like, but the room is silent. With Master gone too, no one else in this place is worth the Alter's time.

So it seems an Avenger can get lonely, after all.

The Alter is lying on her side in the dark when Jeanne returns. The door slides open, the light comes on. There's Jeanne in the doorway, already out of her armor and wearing only a plain dress. Her face lights up when she sees the Alter, and it makes a strange and new feeling stir in the Alter's chest: being loved, being desired.

"Alter!" Jeanne says, rushing to her Alter's side, grinning the whole time. The Alter wordlessly pulls her onto the bed, grabbing her, squeezing her body close as if to make sure this moment is real. "Alter, I'm home."

"Yeah." The Alter leans up and kisses Jeanne, once, twice, a hundred times. (She could never get tired of this, she thinks—each time still brings the same spark of delight.)

"We were only gone for two days," Jeanne says when they pull apart, tangling her fingers in the Alter's hair in that familiar way. The Alter sinks into her touches, drinks her in, breathes her scent. "Did you really miss me that much?"

"Shut the fuck up," the Alter mutters.

Jeanne chuckles. "I was just teasing. It's okay, ma moitié. I missed you too." 

She has to say it. She has to say it—adrenaline seizing her, it is now or never, and she _loves_ Jeanne, she's sure of it, Avenger class be damned, she _will_ tell Jeanne—

"I love you!" the Alter shouts: perhaps too loud, or too forceful. She spits the words out as if they're poison, flinching as if she expects them to hurt.

But pain never comes. There is only Jeanne's face, surprised for a brief second before her expression melts into pure joy.

"Oh," the Alter breathes. "I… said it."

"Oh, Alter! I'm so happy that you could say it! I love you too!" Jeanne giggles, sniffles, wipes her eyes. "Alter, I'm so happy…"

"Hey, you don't have to freakin' cry about it," the Alter says, pretending her own eyes aren't welling up too.

Jeanne's mouth finds hers, though they're both smiling too much for it to be anything resembling a kiss. "Alter, I love you," Jeanne repeats.

"Love you too," the Alter says. It's much easier this time. Jeanne laughs again, the loveliest sound the Alter's ever heard. Here, in Jeanne's arms: yes, she is safe, she can love, and be loved in return.

Looking up at the ceiling, Jeanne's body resting on top of her own, the Alter smiles more than she ever has before.


End file.
